With All Strings Attached
by Atreyl
Summary: Beside him he had a blond, blue-eyed angel that was comfortably sleeping against his side, and he couldn't remember the day they'd been reunited, reconnected, like pieces of a puzzle that perfectly fit.


**With All Strings Attached  
**

It was one of those days that passed on by like a car driving down a road. Unimportant, irrelevant, and was forgotten, thrown from the mind before it was remembered. Yet, at the same time, it held so much more significance to a certain redhead's life that he couldn't believe he found himself forgetting the exact date. It had seemed perfectly normal, natural, even, though on that day, he had reunited with Mello, his best friend and other half.

Matt--known as Mail Jeevas to only Mello-- was disturbed by this. After all, most people would remember the day they met up with their loved one after three years of separation. Not Matt. He simply took the event in, relished the moment, and let it go once it was gone. He liked to live in the present, and certainly didn't like to recall pasts. Besides, before memories of Mello and him at Wammy's orphanage, there had been nothing but nasty flashbacks of his beloved parents dying, the sounds of guns firing and the scream that had flown out of his mother's mouth on that fateful day. When he was taken in by Quillsh Wammy, the orphanage director, he made an adaption that went something like, 'Experience the moment, and move on.' That was probably why his memories were foggy when he tried to remember his and Mello's reunion. Yes, that was it.

Or, maybe he'd been long convinced that Mello wouldn't really leave him, that Mello and he would meet again later on, so that when the day did come, it wasn't really a big deal.

Now that Matt thought about that new option, he was leaning toward the latter.

On the bright side, he hadn't forgotten _everything _about that specific day.

He surely remembered the way the cold pierced his cheeks, the regretful thoughts of not bringing a scarf cluttering his mind. He'd been solely focused on the cold, and only the cold, until he walked by a blond. The blond had been wearing...a black leather vest with a leather jacket, with leather pants tightly fitting those slim legs. Or had the blond been wearing that jacket with feathers on the shoulders? Matt wasn't sure.

He clearly recalled the way his brain went blank and the way he whirled around. The blond was walking away, so Matt grabbed a skinny arm and yanked the person, who Matt confidently thought was Mello, back. He could still picture the glare he'd been given.

"What the fuck do you want?" Mello hissed.

He remembered the gun that Mello had taken out. Had it been in his jacket pocket or from those leather pants?

"Mello." He remembered the way he breathed the blond's name, and the way all coldness from him evaporated when soft lips were pressed against his.

Matt couldn't remember any more, and he frowned upon this fact. Beside him he had a blond, blue-eyed angel that was comfortably sleeping against his side, and he couldn't remember the day they'd met up again.

How brilliant.

Mello roused from sleep, fluttering open his eyelids, revealing those aquamarine eyes. Beautiful, yet deadly at the same time. Something so small that may as well be a weapon. Mello lured with those orbs, and then crushed the poor soul that had fallen.

Matt prayed he wasn't one of them.

However, when that smile, the one that Mello ever so rarely used, appeared on his lover's face, he felt ashamed for even thinking about something so stupid. Mello loved him, and the feeling was mutual.

"I love you." Three words, the same three he'd said for over a thousand times, spilled out of Matt's mouth.

"I don't see how you could," Mello said, frowning. The frown marred his pretty features.

At this time, Matt could think of a hundred reasons why he loved Mello. "I love you," he whispered, kissing the Mafia leader on the forehead, "because someone as unlikely as you," a kiss on the cheek, "stuck with me, despite who I am." And the final kiss on the lips.

When Mello pulled away, his face was serene, eyes closed and mouth formed in a little content smile. Matt couldn't help but compare him to an angel, one with a broken halo, because he knew that if someone were to get to know Mello, they'd see him as the least angelic thing.

But that was fine, because Matt loved him, even though they've been through pointless fights, arguments, nights when neither man slept in the bed they shared. He loved and accepted Mello for what he was, and who he was, with all strings attached.

* * *

**My brain's been spewing out ideas double-time lately, it seems, thus resulting in two oneshots in one day: this one and _Haunted House._ I'm supposed to be working on Roles Reversed chapter 9, but I got sidetracked, sorry.**

**Expect an update tomorrow!**

**I'd write now, but my grandfather's coming home for a month and is arriving on Teusday, so I've been helping prepare the guest bedroom for him. That could also mean less frequent updates, though I promise I'll try to write when I can.**

**See you tomorrow!**

**.A  
**


End file.
